


The Harmer, The Healer

by Penrose



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 15:29:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penrose/pseuds/Penrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The same pain that Michael inflicts, he knows how to heal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Harmer, The Healer

**Author's Note:**

> Can also be found on my [Tumblr](http://spevendielberg.tumblr.com/post/72363756798/the-harmer-the-healer).

Gavin's elbow hurts.

It's nothing new. There's always someone bound to be in pain whenever he horses around with Michael. Last time it was Michael's nose when the back of Gavin's head slammed against it, a stream of blood flowing from his nostrils steadily for a good half an hour. The time before that, it was Michael's knee connecting with the space between his cock and his arsehole, not a square hit directly on the balls but effectively smashing them anyway. He vomited. The time before that, Ray was brought into the mix when Michael rolled his office chair over his toes in an attempt to dodge Gavin leaping off his desk and into his lap. Fortunately, Ray only lost one toenail.

So Gavin considers himself lucky that the only proof of injury this time is a bruise and a new hole in the top of his desk. It's a small price to pay for the great footage they got out of it. And as much as Gavin squawks about it, rolling around on the floor with Michael is one of his favorite activities. He gains a certain sort of pleasure from it that he suspects Michael doesn't, but he keeps that fact a secret.

–

Gavin's head hurts.

It usually does after a night of bevs with his boi. Something about being around Michael makes him want to down shots. It sounds unhealthy, and to an extent it probably is. He always wants to impress Michael, and drinking helps him do that in multiple ways. When he's got alcohol pounding through his veins to the beat of the bass of whatever generic pop melody the DJ is playing, he's a new man. His awkward lanky gawkiness is gone, he speaks his mind without worry of saying the wrong thing, and there's no regret nagging him in the back of his mind when he ends up on the dance floor with Michael, their bodies closer than what is strictly decent for one who has a girlfriend and the other who is supposedly straight.

Through the fog in his head, Gavin remembers glimpses of the night. He remembers drinking Michael under the table (which rarely happens because he is a bit of a lightweight, but he _really_ wants to impress Michael), he remembers a faceless bird handing him a fake number, he remembers Michael.

_He remembers Michael._

He remembers Michael hanging off of him, Gavin barely keeping him upright when he could hardly do it himself. He remembers Michael's hips swaying to the music, looking like the most graceful person in the room to Gavin when in reality Michael's dancing left little to be desired. He remembers their chests bumping against each other, the crowd around them seemingly forcing them impossibly close together. He remembers the scent of Michael's sweat in the crook of neck.

Gavin _thinks_ he remembers licking at that damp skin, and the whimper Michael lets him hear along with a roll of his hips, but that is probably his imagination.

It's not until he goes into work the next morning and finds that Michael isn't there that he remembers how the night ended with a fight between him and Lindsay.

–

Gavin's back hurts.

It only makes sense. He fell asleep sitting upright on his couch. He wakes up slowly, warring with himself between ignoring the pain to go back to sleep and making one big stretch to try to find some relief. It's an ache that makes his vertebrae feel like they're grinding together.

In a similar position next to Gavin is Michael, his head leaning on his shoulder and his bedhead curls tickling Gavin's lips when he turns to admire him in his sleep. The sunlight streaming through Gavin's window tints his hair red and illuminates the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose, and it's a peaceful, vulnerable side of Michael that Gavin has never seen before. Gavin attempts to stand up, because the emotions bubbling inside him are unfamiliar and seem dangerous, but he finds Michael's arms wrapped around his bicep. He only grips tighter when he tries to snake free.

And then Michael stirs, and Gavin has witnessed nothing more beautiful than the flutter of his eyelashes as his eyes open. And then Michael yawns and Gavin has never before had a stronger urge to ruffle his hair, so he does.

“Don't touch me,” Michael grumbles, the words holding less venom than he intended. He lifts his head from his shoulder and unfolds his limbs, standing to stretch and groan.

And even though just a moment ago Gavin wanted to do the same exact thing, now he misses the warmth of his body at his side and wishes they could just entwine themselves in each other. In a more comfortable position. One that wouldn't leave either of them sore.

Gavin staring at the glimpse of skin that is exposed between the waistband of Michael's jeans and his t-shirt when his arms reach into the air doesn't go unnoticed. “Like what you see?” he teases. It's meant to be a joke, but it sounds like an invitation to Gavin.

Fortunately, he's not too groggy to realize that saying “yeah” would just be in bad taste. He opts to ignore the question completely. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I've just been liquefied by the grill of a fucking semi truck,” he replies, rubbing the sleep out of his bloodshot eyes. “And your stupid chipper grin is pissing me off.”

Gavin didn't even realize he was smiling, but he stops. “Sorry, Michael.”

Both of them know the second meaning behind the apology.

“You don't have to pity me,” Michael says with a grimace. “I'm an asshole, so it was bound to happen eventually.”

“Yeah, you're right,” Gavin agrees. He feels like he's allowed to smile again when Michael starts to snicker. After a moment, he adds, “That doesn't make your feelings any less valid, though.”

“Don't get mushy on me now, dickie bitch,” Michael says with a little smirk.

“You mean like how you did with me last night?” Gavin replies.

Michael rubs the back of his neck, his body language screaming with how uncomfortable he was. “Yeah...I think I had too much to drink.”

Gavin knows wholeheartedly that Michael was just barely tipsy, but he doesn't point it out. It isn't the right time for that.

“Sorry if I got snot on your shirt,” Michael says with his freckled cheeks glowing red.

That's Michael's attempt at being sweet, and it gives Gavin butterflies. “Nah, I think I'm clean.”

“Good.”

There's a moment where the air crackles and Michael's gaze radiates an intensity that makes Gavin physically squirm. It's impossible to recognize what the meaning behind the look is, because Michael's eyes shine with encrypted code that Gavin isn't able to decipher, and Gavin doesn't have time to work it out because as soon as it was there, it disappears.

“I guess...” Michael starts, his words trailing off as he thinks them through. “I don't know. This is the part where I'm supposed to leave and thank you for letting me mooch off you for the night, but I...I don't have anywhere to go really.”

“You thought I was going to kick you out?” Gavin says with his eyes wide, looking as though it's the most blasphemous thing he's ever heard. “Team Nice Dynamite, you donut! I'm keeping you here until you work things out with Lindsay.”

Michael's mouth quirks up in the corners, but the smile doesn't reach his eyes. “I don't think I can fix things with her...but I'll take you up on your offer. Until I find another place I can live, that is.”

“Whatever you need. You're my boi.” Gavin holds out a fist for Michael to bump and lets out an inhuman squeak when Michael pulls him out of his seat and wraps his arms around him instead.

Michael is the one giving him these aches and pains, but his hands running over his back were gifted at soothing them.

–

Gavin's lips hurt.

Michael likes to use his teeth. They skim across Gavin's neck, a slick tongue following the scrape. They clasp on to his earlobes, making him wince only to be distracted soon after by the suction of his mouth.

But Michael's favorite place to bite is his bottom lip, pulling at it mercilessly until the entire thing is swollen and red. His tongue always darts out to nurse the twinging, and he knows when Gavin's too sensitive to take any more abuse by the mewling sounds he makes. They switch constantly between passionate kisses where they act as though they're desperately fighting for the same air and tiny closed-mouth ones that make both of their bellies feel warm. Sometimes their kisses come packaged with their hips grinding together, fighting to get as close as they possibly can without taking their clothes off or becoming one entity, and sometimes they just splay out next to each other lazily, Gavin's head resting on Michael's chest until they gain the energy to have their lips meet once again.

Gavin falls in love with this kind of pain.

Gavin falls in love with Michael.

–

Gavin's ass hurts.

He was a ball of nerves when it happened, but recalling it the morning after while being Michael's little spoon nearly has him ready for another go.

As if Michael is reading his mind, his hips press forward, his hard length brushing against the small of Gavin's back. “You're so fucking hot, Gav,” he growls against the back of his neck, lips and teeth following after the ghost of his breath.

“Good morning to you too, love,” he responds sleepily, not at all shy about pushing back against Michael's groin and writhing. He earns a moan for his efforts.

“I haven't had morning wood since I was in high school or something,” he says. His voice is heavy with sleep and lust. “How do you do this to me?”

Gavin has tried to answer that question before, but he never comes to a rational conclusion. “I dunno. I don't have to try very hard if I can do it in my sleep.”

“Cocky asshole,” Michael replies, his dick giving a hard thrust and ending up at Gavin's entrance.

Gavin laughs. “You're giving me a cocky arsehole.”

“You're an idiot, that wasn't even a good joke,” Michael says, but he laughs along with him.

They make love for the second time, and it doesn't help the pain, but Gavin couldn't care less.

–

Gavin's lungs hurt.

He wants to scream, but that would only make everything worse. He feels like he has swallowed sandpaper and every time his ribs expand he wants to cry out. He tries to talk, but everyone tells him not to, so he gives up. He is too exhausted to anyway.

There's a flurry of questions, first from paramedics, then from nurses, then from doctors, then from Geoff when they finally let him in his room. He answers with nods and shakes instead of his voice.

“Do you know where you are?”

_Yes._

“Are you in pain?”

_Yes._

“Do you remember what happened?”

_Yes._

Yes. He remembers the probably drunk driver pushing Michael off the bridge. He remembers the airbags going off as they went over he guard rail. He remembers the tin can that was left of the car submerging. He remembers panicking because Michael wasn't moving and he couldn't recall what he was supposed to be doing to be saving their lives. He remembers trying to open the door and finding it impossible, and he remembers using all his strength to kick out the window. Over and over and over and over until finally water started spurting through spiderwebs cracks. He remembers not being able to take a proper breath before the water blasted him backwards. He remembers that he didn't unbuckle Michael's seat belt before he flooded the cab, wasting precious moments. He remembers being so close to blacking out before breaking the surface of the water with Michael in tow. He remembers swimming them to shore, his muscles protesting every movement on the way. He remembers most of all the feeling of dread when Michael wasn't breathing and he didn't know how to save him, his only experience with mouth-to-mouth being what he has seen on TV.

Gavin _thinks_ he remembers full minutes ticking by before Michael finally took a breath, but that is probably his imagination.

He doesn't remember Michael waking up.

–

Gavin's heart hurts.

The feeling is completely new to him. He's had countless girlfriends, and he's had many family members die, but none of them had ever been Michael. The last funeral he went to was someone he worked on set with on one of the many shit music videos he's done. It was sad to see him go, because he was young and he was a good man, but the guy was so positive in life that it seemed wrong to act any differently in his death. He went through his mourning period, but he remembered his times with him fondly and cherished the memories. He didn't cry. The funeral before that was his great aunt, who he barely ever saw and wasn't close to at all. He tried to cry, because he felt like he should, but it just wasn't possible for him. The funeral before that was for someone he didn't even know, but he went in support of Dan. He couldn't cry for a stranger.

None of those people were Michael. Michael who made everything hurt, but at the same time could take those pains away in an instant. Michael who would have remembered to unbuckle Gavin's seat belt first. Michael who never got to hear Gavin say he loved him. As hard as it was for Gavin to tell him straight out, loving Michael was one of the most fulfilling things he has ever done. And now that he is gone, there's nothing much left of him.

He cries for Michael. He cries for Michael more than anything he has ever cried for in his life.

He sneaks a six pack to his grave the next day, because he wants to see if he can think back on the good times and move on like he always preaches, but rather than turning it into a celebration of life, it turns into a reason to get drunk and sob.

He loves Michael, and he suspects he loved him too, but that fact would always be a secret.


End file.
